


careful creature

by blackkat



Series: Crossover and Fusion Drabbles [22]
Category: Bleach, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Poly, Bullying, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Friendship, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), Humor, In line with canon, Multi, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Technical kidnapping, for Bleach, for Harry Potte, timeline adjustments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 05:11:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18564601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: While on a mission in England, Nel meets a little boy in need of rescue. As a dashing knight, that's exactly her area of expertise.





	careful creature

**Author's Note:**

> This does include a pretty significant timeline adjustment on the part of Bleach, though it's all background. The main story played out in the 50's rather than...whenever it was supposed to be set. This doesn't impact the plot, except that Ichigo is older, an established captain, and he, Nel, and Grimmjow have been an Old Married Trio for decades now.

“Come on, _Captain_ ,” Grimmjow mocks, like Ichigo can't see the way he very carefully hasn’t put so much as a whisker through the portal yet. “You can't be that old yet.”

“A spry, youthful forty,” Nel laughs, leaning in to press a showy kiss to Ichigo's cheek. He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t resist, even as several of his division members eye him sidelong. Ichigo isn't sure what’s more unnerving to them here: seeing the three of them dressed as humans, stuffed into gigai with their power under limiters, or seeing their lieutenant so familiar with their captain when Nel is usually careful about ranks and hierarchies.

“You really want to have this argument?” he asks drolly, but glances over at where Nemu stands beside the monitor. She nods to him, regal in her captain’s haori, and from the chair Akon waves a dismissive hand.

“Don’t stop on your way through,” he calls without turning to look at them. “Otherwise, it should be safe enough.”

Ichigo grimaces, because Akon’s _safe enough_ could mean anything from _it’s harmless_ to _it won't melt your face for at_ least _five minutes_. “Thanks,” he says, and Nemu smiles just a little as she steps up to them.

“Captain Kurosaki,” she says politely, inclining her head to him. “The portal is ready. We’ll reopen it in twenty days, but if you encounter trouble, please remember we’ll require at least two hours to stabilize it before it can be used.”

“Thanks, Nemu,” Ichigo tells her. “Keep an eye on my old man, okay?”

“I have my tranquilizer gun at the ready,” Nemu says serenely, and clasps her hands in front of her. “Good luck with your investigation.”

Ichigo tips his chin to her, then heads up the low ramp, to where swirling silver and gold edge the barrier. Grimmjow is still waiting impatiently, balanced on the balls of his feet, and the fact that he doesn’t have his sword doesn’t make him look any less intimidating. Nel at least knows how to smile and not get mistaken for a serial killer, despite the green hair; Grimmjow doesn’t even bother to try.

Still, he grins at Ichigo, broad and challenging, as Ichigo stops at the top of the Twelfth’s ramp, leans over to jab an elbow into Ichigo's ribs. “Fucking _finally_ ,” he says. “I'm getting bored of this shithole.”

“Only because Kenpachi is out in the Rukongai right now,” Ichigo retorts, knocking his arm away before it can make impact. “And because Nel's been busy.”

Grimmjow scoffs, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. “You two are goddamned workaholics. Doesn’t anyone around here know how to have fun?”

“If we get the work out of the way, we can have fun more easily,” Nel says cheerfully, slipping between them. She eyes the portal, then takes a step forward, and glances back over her shoulder. “Together?” she asks, and offers her hands.

Ichigo exchanges glances with Grimmjow, but he can't fight a faint smile as he takes her hand, wrapping his fingers around slender, sword-callused ones. With a sound of irritation, Grimmjow takes her other hand, but lets her drag him up a step to stand on the lip without complaint. “Can't we just get this bullshit over with?”

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo steps forward, feels Nel match him, and warns, “Don’t stop once we’re in.”

Nel nods, quick and steady, and takes a breath. There isn't a signal, but all three of them plunge forward at once, and the feel of the portal washing over them is like a fluttering veil finally parting.

 

 

It’s not a vacation, technically. Shunsui wouldn’t have been able to get Ichigo and Nel to both take time off if he’d framed it as one, but—

There are definite similarities, Ichigo thinks, amused, as Nel leans down to give him a soft kiss and a cup of tea as she passes. It lingers, careful and familiar and sweet, and when she pulls back, she’s smiling brightly.

“It’s not the usual blend,” she offers, even as she drops into the armchair at a right angle to him. “They don’t have the green tea I usually get, so I had to try something new.”

Ichigo lowers his book to take a sip, and pauses. “Different,” he allows, and Nel giggles, tossing her legs over the arm of the chair and grabbing her book off the ground.

“Different can be good,” she says cheerfully, and casts a pointed look at Ichigo's book.

“Shakespeare is a _classic_ ,” Ichigo protests, miffed, and pulls it closer to himself, like he’s going to defend it against her accusation.

Nel rolls her eyes, but the curl of her mouth is fond. “You’ve read _The Tempest_ three times this _month_ ,” she points out. “Something new wouldn’t hurt you, Ichigo.”

“ _I’ll_ hurt you,” Grimmjow huffs, shoving his face deeper into Ichigo's lap and making him yelp as he almost drops his tea in Grimmjow’s ear. “Don’t stop, asshole.”

With a snort, Ichigo sets his cup aside and buries his fingers in wild blue hair again, dragging them over Grimmjow’s scalp in long, soothing strokes. Grimmjow makes a noise like a contented cat, sinking bonelessly across Ichigo's thighs, and his eyes flutter closed. Blue lashes brush his cheeks, and the absence of his Hollow mask while he’s in his gigai is startling, almost unnerving after Ichigo's spent the last twenty years looking at it. It’s still Grimmjow, though; the curl of his fingers on Ichigo's waist brings a flicker of power with it, reishi gathering and releasing as he drowses. Tomorrow he’ll probably be restless enough to start pushing for a spar, regardless of the fact that they're supposed to be scouting, and knowing him, there’s every chance it will end in bed shortly after.

When Ichigo glances up, Nel has her head pillowed on her folded arms, and she’s watching them with a smile. “The Captain-Commander probably thought he was being sneaky,” she says, and Ichigo snorts.

“That old bastard always thinks he’s sneaky,” he says, ignoring the fact that sometimes Shunsui even manages it. Usually where butting into other people’s business is concerned; Ichigo still hasn’t entirely forgiven him for locking the three of them in a closet a few months after Nel and Grimmjow joined the Gotei 13.

Nel giggles, unwinding herself enough to steal Ichigo's tea and entirely ignoring her own on the floor beside her chair. She’s tangled in her own hair, and Ichigo's eyes follow the drape of the sea-green strands, the way they fall over muscular shoulders and down over the swell of her breasts. Nel is beautiful, even if she has terrible taste in literature.

“What terrible waste of paper did you go with this time?” Ichigo asks. “Or are you still reading _Nicomachean Ethics_?”

“No Aristotle this time. It’s my romance week,” Nel says cheerfully, and with an unnecessary amount of glee she shows him a cover with a man and woman twisted into what _must_ be an uncomfortable pose. A cold one, too. There’s a lot of flowing dress, but none of it seems to actually be _on_ the woman. “ _Mad, Bad, and Dangerous in Plaid_. I thought it was appropriate.”

“Nothing about that is appropriate,” Ichigo says, mildly horrified.

Nel grins at him. “Want me to read you some?” she asks, and without waiting for an answer she flips it open and clears her throat. “ _He should have felt relieved, he supposed, that he no longer had to tiptoe among the MacLawry males, that he didn’t have to watch what he said, be careful not to compliment her, in order to avoid waking up married. If she hadn’t said that she found him disappointing, he likely_ would _be feeling relieved right now. But she had insulted him and his manliness_ —”

“Nel, _why_ ,” Ichigo asks with a groan, and flops _The Tempest_ over his face like a shield to keep the ridiculousness away.

Nel laughs, bright and sweet, and there's a rustle. A moment later she collapses into his side, tucking her legs up under herself and sliding under his arm. Grimmjow grunts, opening one eye to give her a dirty look until her fingers join Ichigo's in his hair, and then he huffs and subsides again.

“Can't you two shut up for a bit?” he asks grumpily.

“If you go to sleep now, you’ll be up all night,” Nel points out, and uses the top of Grimmjow’s head as a prop for her book.

Grimmjow doesn’t open his eyes, but the curl of his grin is full of wicked intent. “I don’t see a single fucking problem with that.”

Nel hums, twisting one of his curls around her finger. “I think we can play a few games,” she agrees, looking up at Ichigo from underneath her lashes, and Ichigo feels his breath catch, the way he’s suddenly just a little more aware of the curves of her body, the lazy rub of Grimmjow’s thumb across his waist that’s suddenly less an absent motion and more an intentional tease.

“We have to patrol tomorrow,” he says, through it comes out too hoarse to be convincing. “Separate corners of the country, to check for Hollow activity—”

With a laugh, Nel rolls up onto her knees, leaning forward to drape her arms over his shoulders, and the press of her breasts brings heat rushing up Ichigo's face even after all this time. “All the more reason to take advantage of tonight,” she teases, and Grimmjow shifts, wraps a hand around her knee, and pulls her sideways into Ichigo's lap even as he sits up.

“Fucking _finally_ ,” he says, even as he leans in, tugging Ichigo's head to the side. Ichigo kisses him, and there's heat rising in it, an edge of teeth, a challenge. In contrast, Nel's mouth on his throat is soft, sweet, careful, and Ichigo gets a hand in her long hair, a hand around Grimmjow’s nape, and lets himself enjoy the shared night off without thinking about the next day.

 

 

“Anything?” Nel asks softly, perched high above the streets on top of a telephone pole. It’s getting dark, shadows spreading, and there's a moon on the horizon that’s largely choked by pollution but still noticeably bright.

“Not here,” Grimmjow says disgustedly, voice faintly distorted by the crackle of the communicator. “Just a lot of blind humans and a couple of low-level Hollows.”

There's a pause, long enough for Nel to notice, and she frowns faintly, glancing down at the device. It seems to be working, the red light of Ichigo's presence and the white light of Grimmjow’s both glowing steadily, but after several seconds of silence, Nel asks, “Ichigo?”

“I'm here,” Ichigo answers immediately, though there's a whine of wind on the other end that makes the words hard to pick out. “There's something in the ocean, I think. Off the shore.”

A chill prickles down Nel's spine, and she rises to her feet, one hand settling on Gamuza’s hilt. “Something?” she asks, a little worried. The Twelfth reported a new breed of Hollow frequenting England, something _wrong_ to every one of their scanners, and she doesn’t like the thought of any of them being close to creatures like that without backup. If something happens, Ichigo is powerful, but—

He’s alone on the coast of the North Sea, far from either herself or Grimmjow, and getting to him will take a day even with sonido.

“Ichigo,” she starts, warning, and there's a quiet snort from the other end of the line.

“I'm not going to go alone,” Ichigo says, like that isn't precisely what he would have done even a few years ago. “Are you still in Surrey, Nel?”

“Yes,” Nel confirms, and she’s already plotting the best course to reach him. “I can—”

With a grunt, Grimmjow cuts in. “I'm closer,” he points out. “And you felt something in that shitty town, right?”

Nel pauses, conflicted. She did feel something, like a burst of reiatsu that was uncontrolled, uncontained. But—bot quite reiatsu. Something softer, less formed. It was close, and she missed it, but she thinks she’s near to where it originated now. “I did,” she allows. “It didn’t feel like a Hollow, though.”

“Still close enough to it that it’s got you worried,” Grimmjow says. “I’ll go. Ichigo, you still in that one town?”

“Up the coast about thirty kilometers,” Ichigo corrects, and then says, “Nel, be careful. If Grimmjow is with me, you won't have any backup.”

Nel rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry about _me_ , silly,” she huffs. “I had one _possible_ sighting. It sounds like you’ve got a lot more. Grimmy, don’t do anything reckless, all right?”

“Don’t call me that,” Grimmjow retorts. “I'm leaving now. You'd better have a decent fight for me when I get there, asshole.”

His line cuts off, and Nel sighs, rubbing at the edge of her mask and fingering the broken slant of the shattered teeth. This would be so much easier if they could just open a Senkaimon, but the portal to get here was already a strain, and the English division of the Soul Reapers is entirely absent, vanished around the same time the reports of strange Hollows started coming in. All dead, Nel assumes, and it doesn’t make her feel any better about Ichigo and Grimmjow facing off against an unknown enemy without her there.

“We’ll be fine, Nel,” Ichigo says, more softly.

“You’d better be,” Nel threatens, and she smiles, makes it light even though she doesn’t feel that way. “You two owe me a nice dinner out, remember? And a massage. And six new books! Oh, and a kitten.”

“Believe me, you _thoroughly_ reminded us of why we should never bet against you. Especially in bed,” Ichigo says dryly, and Nel's laugh comes more easily this time.

“You should have learned the first hundred times,” she points out, then casts a glance over the cool shadows of the streets around her. “Be safe, Ichigo,” she says softly.

“We will,” Ichigo promises, and cuts the call. For a long moment, Nel stays where she is, rubbing her thumb over the white and red lights. If she closes her eyes, she can see Ichigo in his captain’s haori, Zangetsu across his back, and Grimmjow in the white and black outfit he wears to stand apart from the Shinigami. Hers, the two of them, and she never would have thought to end up here, with either of the men now in her life, but at this point she can't imagine anything different. Every step was meant to bring her here, to the Seventh Division, to the position of lieutenant under Kurosaki Ichigo, with Ichigo at her right hand and Grimmjow at her left. Her life is built on a bedrock of reason, of good deeds, and she’s still a Hollow and will be until she loses herself to reincarnation, but there's still a place for her in the world. She isn't just a beast.

Taking a breath, Nel steps off the telephone pole, lets herself drop to land in a crouch. The gigai is back in the house they're renting, safely stored away, and no humans will be able to see her unless they're already used to seeing ghosts. She touches Gamuza’s hilt again, feeling the humming power contained in the sword, and tries not to rub at the power limiter inked onto her chest. Soul Society will lift it, if it’s needed, but she hopes it won't be.

Even with the threat of these new Hollows, though—for a certain value of new, of course, since Nel _knows_ how slowly the Gotei 13 can move when there isn't an immediate threat, and Nemu said reports of these strange energy signatures stretched back at _least_ two hundred years—it’s nice to be out of Soul Society. They visit Ichigo's sisters in the World of the Living sometimes, escorting his father back and forth as he splits his time between his three children, but those visits have gotten less frequent over the years. Too much work, and even in times of relative peace, death runs on paperwork.

They're expanding into the Rukongai, trying to reunite families, make sure souls with higher reiatsu levels are fed so they won't starve to death. It’s a vast undertaking, even with the framework of the Gotei 13 in place, and Nel supposes they’ve been caught up in the reforms, distracted from everything but the work. Even Grimmjow has been buckling down, immersing himself, and Nel thinks a little sadly that they’ve all lost themselves in one way or another. Lost each other, just a little, though it’s thankfully something easily fixed.

Standing in the twilight, she tips her head back to the sky, though the lights block out any hint of stars. Little Whinging is a very _human_ place, and Nel hasn’t been to many such towns, but she likes it. not enough to stay, not more than the peace of the Seventh Division, but it’s a nice change from her office. She smiles a little, starting down the street, and the houses are all neat, orderly, carefully the same, but with touches of the individual to them. Beneath it is the steady hum of reishi, natural and sweet, and there's a park where the breeze shifts the trees in rippling pushes. A few humans are out, but none of them see her, and Nel doesn’t spare them more than a glance as she crosses into the park, studying the swings as they sway.

This is close to the source of the earlier power, Nel knows; she can feel the residue of it, like the fading traces of a kidō spell, but wilder. Softer around the edges, and touched with a frustration and fear and embarrassment that stings faintly. Not Hollow emotions, and Nel frowns, trying to pinpoint the source.

And then, in the darkness, an angry cry.

Nel turns, fingers tightening on her sword, and takes three long steps before she adds a touch of reiatsu and blurs into sonido. A swift blur of motion brings her to the base of a tree, and she slows, takes one step at normal speeds, and—

A group of boys, all under ten, are clustered around another, laughing. The boy in the center is small, skinny, dressed in clothes far too big and baggy for him, but he’s standing his ground even though the others are much larger than him. His face is flushed, angry, and the biggest of the boys steps forward, shoves hard at his shoulder to send him stumbling back.

“Come on, _freak_ ,” the bigger boy mocks. “Aren’t you going to fly? Jump into the top of that tree? Come on, I bet you're enough of a freak to do it.”

“Shove off, Dudley!” the smaller boy snaps, and even though he trips he doesn’t fall, stays on his feet with an effort. “Aunt Petunia sent me to get—”

The big boy sneers. “Mummy won't be surprised by a _freak_ failing to do what he’s told,” he taunts. “And I’ll tell her—”

A single step of sonido puts Nel right behind him, and she reaches out. a single brush of her finger against the back of his neck has him yelping, jerking around to stare wildly right through Nel's stomach, and he recoils. Nel follows, a touch of her reiatsu sweeping out to curl around each of the bullies, and it makes all of them twitch and yelp and crash into each other as they try to retreat.

“What are you _doing_?” the bigger boy shrieks. “I'm going to tell Mum—”

Nel lets just a little of the beast she used to be into her voice, and growls, “ _Run_.”

The lash of her reiatsu shakes the trees like a howling wind, and the ground cracks. The boys don’t linger; as one mass they turn and bolt, screaming, and Nel tips her chin up in disapproval as she watches them go. She’s never liked bullies.

But one figure isn't fleeing. The small boy is staring _at_ her, not through her, and his eyes are as wide as saucers behind his glasses. Nel looks down at him, tiny and scrawny and so very obviously able to see her, and calls her reiatsu back, tamping it down beneath her skin until it’s barely a whisper in the air.

“Hello,” she says cheerfully, makes it bubbly and welcoming as she crouches down in front of him. “Are you okay? There were a lot of them, weren’t there?”

The boy looks from her to the cracked ground, lets his eyes slide back. “Dudley couldn’t see you,” he says, almost accusing.

Nel wonders if she should make up a story, play at being an imaginary friend, but—for all he’s a child, his eyes are sharp. She doubts he’d fall for it.

“I'm a ghost,” she says, which is true enough in the broad sense of things. “Only very special people can see me, and Dudley isn't one of them.”

The boy’s face twists into something very much like disdain. “Dudley’s bad at everything,” he says.

“He seems to be a decent enough bully,” Nel says, and wrinkles her nose. “That’s worth than being bad at everything, I think.”

The boy smiles at her, tentative, a little shy. “He’s bad at that, too,” he confesses. “I keep getting away from him and his gang. This afternoon I jumped onto the roof to do it.”

It’s been a very, very long time since Nel was human, but she knows human limitations, and that shouldn’t have been possible for a child of what’s likely seven years. “Oh?” she asks, tipping her head. “Was it a high roof?”

“The top of the school,” the boy confirms, and shoves his too-big glasses up his nose. “The teacher gave me detention for it, but I don’t know how I got up there.”

Nel has her suspicions, and she strips off her glove, holds out one hand to test the boy’s reiatsu like she’s testing the heat of a fire. It’s there, steady and thrumming, and it’s familiar, too; this is what she felt earlier, that burst, sudden and wild. A boy running from bullies, saving himself even though he didn’t consciously know how.

“I think,” Nel says gently, “that you're very special. It’s why you can see me, and it’s why you jumped so far.”

The boy’s face twists. “Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia say it’s because I'm a freak,” he says.

Relatives in charge of his care, likely; he had mentioned his aunt sending him to get something to Dudley, Nel remembers. “They're afraid,” she says simply. “And they're foolish. Don’t listen to them.”

The boy’s eyes flicker up to the mask on her head, the curled horns, then down to her white armor. “Were you a knight?” he asks, sidestepping the subject.

Nel laughs, rocking back to sit on her heels. “I still am,” she says, because that’s what the rest of the Gotei 13 calls her, and she hardly objects to the title. Captain Kurosaki's Knight, the Knight of the Seventh, and there are far, far worse things to be. “My name is Nelliel.”

“I'm Harry Potter,” the boy says shyly. “Thanks, Nelliel.”

He trips over her name a little, stumbles on the consonants, but Nel doesn’t remark on it. She rises to her feet, offering him a hand, and asks, “Can I take you home, Harry?”

Harry hesitates, then shakes his head. “Aunt Petunia wanted me to get things for breakfast,” he says. “I have to go to the store first.”

It’s very, very late for a boy his age to be outside, let alone going to the store. Nel hides a frown, but sets her hand on the hilt of her sword and bows to him, makes her smile silly and bright. “Then let me escort you, milord,” she says grandly, and it makes Harry laugh.

“Thank you, Lady Knight,” he says in return, and bows back to her.

Straightening, Nel giggles. “It’s Dame,” she corrects. “Dame Knight, for a woman.”

“Dame Knight,” Harry repeats agreeably, and then pauses. “Can you leave the park?” he blurts. “You're not—tied here? Dudley has a movie on ghosts, and it said they couldn’t leave where they died.”

Nel laughs. “I died a very long way from here,” she says. “So I don’t think that’s true. Not for me, at least.”

Harry regards her for a long moment, then asks, “Were you a mermaid? Is that why your hair is green?”

“A mermaid knight?” Nel asks, and laughs at the thought. “No, this is just how I look.”

“All right,” Harry says, accepting that easily enough, and he leads to way to the far side of the park, back into the streets. “Why does your helmet look like a skull?”

“Because my sword is named Gamuza,” Nel tells him, and draws the first inch of it from its sheath. The blade shines silver-white in the streetlights, the tsuba like two crescent moons a deeper, darker silver against the light. When Harry looks uncomprehending, she smiles, and explains, “It means _Antelope Knight_. So it’s an antelope skull.”

Harry stares at the sword for a moment, then blinks. “Your sword is a knight, too?” he asks.

With a laugh, Nel sheathes it again. “It’s just a name,” she says, and at this point, it’s true, though Antelope Knight once described her much more literally. Her more human form feels as much a part of her as her Resurrección now, even though it was strange for a long while after Aizen first gave it to her.

“It’s really cool,” Harry tells her earnestly. “Do you headbutt people with it?”

Nel beams at him. “All the time,” she says, and most recently she’s only used it on Ichigo and Grimmjow when they spar, or when Ichigo is overworking himself and refuses to rest, but she’s used it on enemies before as well.

“Awesome,” Harry says, awed. “Do you have a king? Like King Arthur?”

A flicker of something bittersweet curls through Nel's chest. “Once,” she says. “But he was an evil man, and I was betrayed. I lived in exile until a brave warrior defeated him and cast him down into a prison for twenty thousand years. Then I had a queen whom I respected more than anyone, but I left her to follow the brave warrior, because he was a good, kind man, and I loved him deeply.”

Harribel had understood, and she hadn’t been surprised. Had smiled, even, and released Nel from her service before she could ask, because she knew where Nel's heart led. To a young man, bright-burning, newly made a captain in the wake of the Quincy war, with honor and reason and mercy in his heart. All the things Nel wanted, but would never find in Hueco Mundo, surrounded by Hollows.

“He’s your king now?” Harry asks, and he’s watching her, intent green eyes behind his glasses. It makes Nel smile, and she inclines her head.

“The best king,” she answers, and whatever Ichigo's actual title, that’s what he’ll always be for her. The king who saved her, who gave her back logic and reason and the power to protect those dear to her, and Nel loves him for it. For that and a thousand other things, with more to discover every day.

“Good,” Harry says decisively, like this is the most important thing to him. “You're a really cool knight, so I'm glad you have a good king, too.”

Nel can't help but run a hand over his messy black hair, smiling down at him. “I'm glad, too,” she says, and lifts her head, then comes to a stop. There's a small store in front of them, and she asks, “Here?”

Harry nod. “Aunt Petunia wanted more milk and eggs, and some sausage,” he says.

It sounds like far too much for a small boy to carry, but Nel's gigai is far away, and she frowns. “Can you carry all of that?” she asks in concern.

“Of course,” Harry says, casting her a sideways look like she’s silly for asking. “Aunt Petunia always has me get the groceries she forgets.”

It takes a lot of effort not to scowl. Nel fingers Gamuza’s hilt, takes a breath, nods. “All right,” she says, and follows him through the doors, an uneasy, unhappy feeling rooted deep beneath her breastbone.

She doesn’t like this situation. She doesn’t like it _at all_.

 

 

The bed she, Ichigo, and Grimmjow shared last night was on the verge of two small for all three of them, but for Nel alone it’s a vast expanse of mattress and blanket, too large and too cold. The moon is bright enough to keep her awake, and she curls on her side, tracing the indent where Grimmjow’s head rested on the other pillow with her fingertips. It’s not unusual for the three of them to be apart, on patrols or attending to duties, but she’s never been fond of the nights when she’s separated from both Ichigo and Grimmjow. Too much time to think, too many spaces that echo with her thoughts, and tonight it’s particularly terrible.

Harry was yelled at, when he finally lugged the groceries home. A woman with a narrow face and an unpleasant set to her mouth grabbed his arm and dragged him inside, hissing at him, and Nel heard raised voices through an open window. Heard _go to your cupboard_ , distinct and familiarly spoken, like a common order, and it made her blood run cold in her veins, made her reiatsu stir and strain in a way it normally doesn’t.

Clearly Dudley isn't the only trial in Harry's life.

Rolling over, Nel digs her fingers into the sheet, breathes slow and careful as she tries to even out her thoughts, but they keep spinning, churning. He’s a bright boy, cheerful, lever, with the ability to see ghosts and a backbone that keeps him standing against boys twice his size. Nel _likes_ him, but they're only in England for a short while, here to sort out the rumors about new Hollows and nothing else. There's nothing she can do to help.

Well. There is one thing.

Nel huffs, rolls over again, punches her pillow hard to force it into a more comfortable shape, and flops back down to find it hasn’t helped at all. Ichigo will get mad at her, if she does something reckless. If she does something _illegal_ , and Nel knows enough human laws to realize that this would most certainly be illegal.

But then, Ichigo is also kind, and he hates people picking on the vulnerable. One look at Harry and he won't be able to say no. Grimmjow will be even less of a problem; all she has to do is tell him what assholes the woman and her husband and son were and he’ll be all for doing anything that spites them.

Nel mulls it over. She found the source of the strange reiatsu, so there's nothing keeping her here. She can be gone by morning, heading north to meet with Grimmjow and Ichigo again, and there won't be a trace of her presence here beyond the cracked earth in the park and one little boy saved from bullies.

 _Temporarily_ saved, Nel reminds herself viciously, and finally gives up on sleep. She sits up, letting the covers pool around her waist, and presses a hand to the limiter on her chest. It pulses faintly, a reminder of her place in this world, her position in Soul Society. But surely, _surely_ saving one little boy can only be a good thing.

This isn't something she would ask Ichigo to decide for her, or Grimmjow. This is Nel planning something, and it’s her decision. Not entirely, because Harry has a say, but—

Nel knows what she wants to do. Feels it deep in her soul, where Gamuza curls waiting, and it’s not a startling thing. Reasonable, even, and Nel has always had reason, relied on it, clung to it as what separates her from a mindless beast. The path of reason is the path of justice, and justice in Harry's life would be giving him freedom.

Sliding out of bed, Nel twists her long hair into a messy braid to keep it out of her face, then pulls on one of Ichigo's loose sweatshirts and heads for the main room, swiping her phone from the bedside table as she goes.

It’s mid-morning in Japan right now, Nel calculates, curling up in the armchair and bringing the phone up to study the numbers. It’s certainly not too late to call, and there's every reason to expect the man on the other end will assist her.

Setting her jaw, Nel punches in the number. There's a click, a cheerful greeting, but Nel doesn’t try to return it.

“I need your help,” she says. “I need your help breaking the law.”

There's a pause, startled and considering, and then Urahara chuckles. “My lovely lieutenant,” he says cheerfully. “Which law are we breaking today, and how can I be of service?”

 

 

The suit doesn’t fit as well as it should, and the shoes are incredibly uncomfortable, but Nel can walk decently in them, though she’ll be kicking them off the second she needs to do anything strenuous. Her hair is up, her smile is in place, and she’s got an arsenal of legitimate-sounding human phrases ready to be trotted out the moment it seems like they’ll be needed, up to and including _promoting the development of community-based models for adolescents_ and _to make interventions successful, smart, and sustainable, they need to be implemented as multi-sectoral intervention packages anchored in nurturing care_. Urahara was gleeful about drilling her on potential lines, all too happy to dig through scholars’ work and read it out to her, and Nel feels like she has more than enough to work with if she’s questioned.

Steeling herself at the foot of Number 4’s walk, she smooths back a few loose strands of hair, checks that she can feel Gamuza ready to manifest if she needs it, and heads up the steps, giving the door a polite but firm rap and stepping back.

There's a long, long pause, and then the door creaks open. The thin-faced woman from last night peers out, eyes narrowed, and asks suspiciously, “Can I help you?”

“Hello!” Nel says cheerfully, giving the woman her best smile. “I'm Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck, from the Department for Education. I'm here to speak with you about your nephew, Harry Potter, if you have the time.”

The woman’s face sours, but she pulls the door open and steps back. “What has that boy done now?” she asks, and turns, raising her voice. “Boy, come _here_.”

It takes effort for Nel's smile not to thin out into something dangerous, but she keeps her expression pleasant as she Petunia into an obsessively neat sitting room. A moment later, there are footsteps on the stairs, and Harry appears, dragging a laundry basket that’s almost as big as he is. Quickly, he leaves it at the top of the stairs and hurries down, taking the steps two at a time.

“Yes, Aunt Petunia?” he asks, stumbling around the corner. Then his gaze lands on Nel, and he comes to a dead stop, eyes widening. Nel gives him a bright smile, and behind Petunia’s back she offers him a wink and a wave.

“What have you been getting into at school?” Petunia asks sharply, going to the window to pull the curtains closed, like she’s worried about her neighbors peering through the glass. “To get the DfE called on you, I can't _imagine_ —”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Nel says cheerfully, because it’s either that or cast a Cero at the woman, and Ichigo would most _certainly_ frown on that much excessive force being used on a human. She takes a seat on the sofa, placing her briefcase at her feet and patting the cushion next to her invitingly, and when Harry hurries over to climb up next to her she grins at him. “I'm here about a new program we’re launching for troubled children, ma’am. It’s an extended stay in a school out in the countryside, with intensive and community-minded programs to promote childhood development and guide adolescents away from criminal behavior.”

Something like satisfaction makes Petunia’s nostrils flare. “Criminal behavior?” she asks, giving Harry a dark look. “Is this about that detention, for traipsing about on the school roof like a hooligan?”

Harry looks indignant, furious, but Nel puts a hand on his shoulder before he can say anything, squeezes gently and gives him an encouraging smile when he glances up at her. “That’s what brought him to our attention, yes,” she allows. “It’s a highly specialized program, and I'm afraid we only have one opening left, but it’s fully funded by grants and we have a record of success with troublesome cases.”

“Fully funded?” Petunia asks, eyes narrowing, and she smiles thinly. “How long are the terms? Do you follow the regular school year?”

“Not at all,” Nel lies blithely. “It’s a year-round program, and though there's the option of a summer holiday, students are encouraged to stay for a work program. I know it’s hard to be apart from your nephew for so long—”

“When he can he start?” Petunia interrupts.

Harry is tense and all but vibrating under Nel's hand, and she squeezes again, then says, “Well, I’ll need a brief interview with Harry here, to see if he’s a good match, but if that goes well I can take him with me today. I have the papers in my briefcase, and all you have to do is sign.”

The look Petunia levels at Harry is a _convince her or else_ that makes Nel's hackles rise, but she rises to her feet. “I’ll leave you two alone, then, shall I?” she asks with false sweetness. “Harry, please remember to be on your best behavior for Ms.…”

“Tu Odelschwanck,” Nel supplies. “And I'm sure we’ll get along just fine, won't we, Harry?”

“Er, yeah,” Harry says, looking from her to his aunt. Petunia moves away, and instantly his gaze flickers back to Nel as he drops his voice and hisses, “I thought you were a _ghost_! How come Aunt Petunia can see you?”

Nel laughs, and uses her grip on his shoulder to haul him into a tight hug. “Ah, you're so _cute_ ,” she coos, and Harry splutters, flushing bright red. Letting him go, Nel spreads her hands, and says, “It’s a false body, like a puppet, and when a ghost wears it they can interact with the human world. I wanted to make you an offer, Harry.”

“An offer?” Harry repeats, bewildered. “And—why does a ghost need a body? Who _makes_ them? Why does it look just like you?”

“Would you like to see?” Nel asks gently, and when Harry blinks at her, she smiles. “That’s the offer, Harry. I'm going back to my home soon, but—I don’t think you're happy here, and I’d like to take you away with me. I live one world away, in Soul Society, and I think you’d like it. I think everyone there would like _you_.”

“But you just _met_ me,” Harry says, a little helplessly. “How—how do you know you want me to come live with you?”

Nel laughs. “I told you, you're special,” she says cheerfully. “And I don’t know you yet, not really, but I’d like to. You’d be away from all of this, too.”

For a long, long moment, Harry stares at her. Then, quickly, his eyes flicker to the staircase beyond the room, the tiny cupboard under it. He looks at Nel again, then clenches his hands into fists and blurts, “Yes! Yes, I want to go with you.”

“Then we’ll go,” Nel agrees without hesitation, and offers him her hand. Harry takes it, gripping her fingers hard, and Nel collects her briefcase, then rises to her feet. Harry slides down to walk with her, and she heads for where she can see his aunt, straining to look like she’s not attempting to listen in from the kitchen.

“What’s your aunt’s last name?” Nel whispers to Harry, and he grins at her, clearly glad to be in on the plot.

“Dursley,” he whispers back, and Nel winks at him.

“Mrs. Dursley?” she calls, and Petunia turns quickly. She takes in Nel's grip on Harry, then smiles.

“All worked out, then?” she asks, still falsely sweet. “I'm so glad.”

“So it seems,” Nel agrees cheerfully, and places her briefcase on the table, opening it and pulling out several official-looking forms Urahara created. “If you’ll just sign a few pages, Harry and I will be heading out. Unless your family wants to say farewells?”

“No, no,” Petunia says quickly, and takes the pen Nel offers. “This will be fine, thank you, my husband is out and I wouldn’t want to delay you.” She scrawls a signature wherever Nel points, barely bothering to look the forms over, and Nel gathers them back as soon as she’s done and beams.

“Off we go, then!” she says, and tugs Harry towards the door. “Thank you, Mrs. Dursley. You can expect the first progress report in the mail in nine months to a year. Thank you!”

The door swings shut behind them, and as soon as they're down the walkway Harry bursts out, “I can't _believe_ that worked!”

Nel laughs, tucking her briefcase under one arm and reaching up to pull the pins from her hair. “I didn’t think it would go quite so smoothly,” she agrees. “But I thought it was a decent enough cover story, and this way you don’t have to come back unless you want to.”

“It’s _brilliant_ ,” Harry says fiercely. “Thank you, Nelliel.”

“Call me Nel,” she says cheerfully, and pulls her communicator out of her pocket, checking the lights. Still bright, but close together now, so Grimmjow must have reached Ichigo without trouble. “I suppose I should have asked before, but do you need anything from the house? Clothes, or books?”

“I'm not allowed to have books,” Harry says, a little bitterly. “And all my clothes belonged to Dudley before.”

Nel tells herself very firmly that she isn't going to set Dondochakka or Pesche to haunt the Dursleys. It wouldn’t be worth it. “Then we’ll get you new ones,” she says firmly, and pauses at the corner of Privet Drive. “My partners and I have a house that we’re renting, but it’s a ways from here. I can get to it fast, but I’ll have to pick you up to take you with me. Is that all right?”

“Is it something ghosts can do?” Harry asks curiously.

“A certain kind of ghost,” Nel confirms, and crouches down, opening her arms. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

Obligingly, Harry steps closer, awkwardly wraps his arms around her neck, and Nel scoops him up, settling him on her hip. A flicker of reiatsu sparks the first step of sonido, and Harry yelps, grabbing tighter to her and hanging on as the world blurs. Nel makes it as quick as she can, landing them right on the doorstep and immediately dropping down to set Harry on his feet.

“Are you all right?” she asks, cupping his cheek, and Harry wobbles but looks up with a wide grin.

“That was _amazing_ ,” he says. “You're so fast!”

Nel laughs warmly, rising to her feet, and pushes to door open. “You’re special enough that I might be able to teach you,” she says. After all, the Quncies have their own version of the flash-step, and Harry has enough reiatsu that he can probably learn it too.

“Really?” Harry asks excitedly, following her in. “Brilliant!”

Nel checks the communicator again, watching the white and red dots glow. Steady light, not flickering, so they're likely keeping their promise to stay out of trouble. Not that Nel has much hope it will last.

“We’ll teach you something, at least,” she promises, and then spins around, clapping her hands together and grinning at Harry. “How about we get dinner and find you some clothes that fit?” she proposes. “My partners will be back by tomorrow, probably, and you can meet them.”

“Your king?” Harry asks interestedly, shoving his glasses up, and Nel makes a mental note to get his eyes checked as well. The Fourth could always do it, but Harry might be more comfortable with a living human for now.

“Yes,” Nel says, and smiles. “My king and my cat. I love both of them.”

Harry accepts that without comment, clearly finding nothing strange about it. “Do they know I'm coming with you?” he asks, a little nervous.

Nel laughs, draping an arm around his shoulders and steering him into the house. “It’s a surprise,” she confides, and when Harry gives her a wary look she grins at him. “They’re both silly about me breaking the law. No need to tell them before they're back here in person, right?”

For a moment, Harry looks torn. “You're breaking the law?” he repeats, and then pauses. “Er, about kidnapping?”

“Let’s call it _child liberation spurred by bad circumstances_ ,” Nel says judiciously, and Harry laughs. Nel wraps her arms around him, pulling him close to her side, and maybe she should be nervous about Grimmjow and Ichigo's reactions, but—

They’ll love Harry as much as she does, she knows. There's no chance at all that they won't, or they wouldn’t be the men she loves so very much.


End file.
